Attending Physician

  “Did you happen to see her pupils?”

  I thought again. “No.”

  “Damn,” Raven swore under her breath.

  “Why `damn,’ milord?” I lifted my eyes off my face in the mirror and looked directly at her.

  “I wanted to know if she was high yesterday,” Raven explained.

  “Why?”

  “Because if she wasn’t, and her addiction has kicked in, which is likely, then she’s going to have needed a hit by the end of the day yesterday. Today at the latest.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. None of this was new information. This is how addiction works.

  “Baby.” The way Raven said it was a holophrasm—a full sentence.

  I stopped putting mascara on.

  “The biker boys are her dealers.” She said this in a way that sounded like it explained something definitive.

  “So?” I said.

  “So they’re out on bail, baby. They have lawyers on the staff of their gang.” This was a solemn pronouncement. “I’m glad you’re not doing the groups today.”

  “Raven, I don’t get it.” I glanced at her. “I keep feeling like you think you’re telling me something that I’m missing.”

  “Verity, Ellie will contact her dealers if she hasn’t already. Because they’re out, they can get to you, baby. They might.”

  We stood in the small loo and let that idea wing around us.

  “Ohhh,” I said. Thinking aloud, I added, “And if a desperate drug addict like Ellie were to mouth off to her scary biker dude dealers how unfair her doctor was being, would they decide to teach the doctor a lesson?”

  “Yeah.”

  The buzzer went off. Mickey and Sara had decided to opt out of group and come spend the morning with me. I thought that maybe Raven had persuaded them to do so.

  “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute,” I called, skipping down the hallway to tear into some clothes.

  My morning was chock full. I’d rescheduled my Monday because of the emergency meeting. I was glad not to be going to group today. In fact, I thought that I probably needed to have an escort whenever I went out for a some while.

  Once I emerged from the bedroom appropriately garbed for therapy, Raven kissed me goodbye soundly, effectively removing every single swipe of lipstick I’d applied.

  “Go fix it, baby,” she whispered, “but you’re a million times more beautiful without it.” I cupped her jaw in my hand. She added, “I’ll be hard for you all day today, milady.”

  My breath hitched and my eyes widened. “Milord,” I murmured, blushing.

  She raised my hand to her mouth, her eyes never leaving my face, “God’s truth, milady.” Exit Raven.

  “She’s so romantic,” said Sara sighing, um, romantically.

  “That she is,” I agreed.

  “I didn’t hear what she said, and I knew!” Sara crowed.

  “I’m studying her,” said Mickey seriously.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because if you’ll consider your face in the mirror, Dr. Spencer, lipstick or not, you’re glowing, which says to my butch brain that Raven is doin’ somethin’ right, and I want to be able to do that same thing to my femme when I meet her.”

  “Good,” I acknowledged Mickey. “You’re right. Raven’s ace at it.”

  Then I blushed.

  “Go fix your lipstick, Dr. Spencer!” Mickey teased. “Otherwise your patients will be scandalized.”

  “Oh you,” I said, grinning to myself.

  Chapter 54

  The morning had three patients each of whom was dealing with their own traumatic pasts. Something in the present had triggered each one. I knew why they’d shown up this way, but I also knew that Sara didn’t have a clue.

  Sara’s brush with her own past the day before is what caused today’s sessions’ subject matter.

  I know that sounds like a far-fetched claim, but hear me out. The therapeutic relationship is, in one way, like any other relationship. It’s a mirror. What’s happening for the therapist is reflected in her patients—always. And no, I’m not remotely kidding. I’ve seen it over and over again for more than twenty years.

  If I’ll let them, my patients act as a mirror, and help me heal. Otherwise, there’d be no point to the relationship. It has to be mutually beneficial to work.

  When the last one left at eleven, Sara rolled her eyes at the two of us and said, “What are the chances?”

  “The chances of what?” I asked.

  “That today’s three sessions were on the triggering of past trauma.”

  “Highly likely,” I said calmly.

  Sara startled at me. “For real?”

  “Yep,” I said, “that’s how this works. In fact, not only therapy, but all relationships work this way. They’re mirrors. Yesterday your old abuse trauma came up ergo abuse trauma shows up today.”

  “C’mon,” Mickey chided me.

  “I kid you not, darlings.”

  Mickey got in my face—as much as she ever did—, “You’re tellin’ us that because of Sara’s shit, their shit showed up?”

  “Not as entirely directly or causatively as that, but yes, in the main, I am,” I assured her.

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah, whoa,” echoed Sara. “I never knew that.”

  “Well, it’s not something the old school psychs discuss. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they wouldn’t admit it were true even if they did know it.” I rolled my eyes. That old-fashioned, we-are-neutral stance that the old school psychs take is simply impossible. Unless one is a robot or an ascended master. Neither of which I am. “Sara, did any of the sessions today trigger you?”

  “No, I was fine,” she said.

  “What was different about Ellie showing up that did?” Mickey asked gently. She was going to be an outstanding therapist.

  Sara paled and whispered, “The violence. No, the potential for violence.” She began to shake.

  “So, Sara, your experience had some kind of violence associated with it—or the potential for violence,” I amended. “Right?”

  “Yes.” The usual sunny Sara was inaccessible and she was trapped in a much younger part of her psyche who was completely disempowered in this scenario.

  “Mickey, you want to try to pull her out?” I invited her.

  “Yes,” Mickey kept her eyes trained on Sara.

  “Sara,” she began, “how old are you?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  “And how old is this part of you who’s so frightened?”

  “Nine.”

  Mickey was patient and led Sara through a shift in perspective so that she saw the mute nine year old from her thirty-one year old self, and realized that her adult self could protect that inner part. Sara dissolved in tears in Mickey’s arms.

  Finally, she took a big breath and blew her nose in the cotton handkerchief Mickey’d handed her. “Mickey,” she said, “I’ve never trusted anyone with that. I cannot thank you enough.”

  “You already did, Sara. Trusting me was all the thanks I needed.”

  She was by no means complete with it, but the grip of it loosened enough so that Sara wouldn’t be triggered in the same way again. It would take some time and some more processing to release it fully but she was on her way.

  “Think it worked because Verity was here? That you trusted me?” Mickey asked Sara as they went to the kitchen to get the menu for China Dragon.

  “No,” Sara shook her head. “No, Mick, it was you. All you.”

  Mickey beamed. Sara had told the truth. It was just Mickey. I was proud of these two.

  We ordered lunch—Lucy had placed her order with Lady via phone earlier—and settled in to wait for the delivery of both lunch and playmate.

  Like clockwork, both arrived at the same time. I flew down the stairs to pay the guy, grab Lucy, and get a hard, wet kiss from my butch. I also sought Gretchen’s eye in the front seat of the minivan and put my hands in the universal posture for prayer for her. She got teary.
>
  “She’s scared, darling,” I said to Raven sotto voce.

  “I know, baby. I’ll be with her. We’ll see you for tea. Lucy, be good for Lady please.”

  “I will, Papa,” she said.

  “Come on, baby girl. Lunch is getting cold, and Sara and Mickey want to meet you.”

  We climbed the two flights to my flat, closed and locked the door and went to the kitchen to put out our Chinese feast. If Lucy spent any appreciable time at my house, I needed a booster chair for her. For this meal, she sat on my lap, and I navigated around her blonde curls with my chopsticks.

  “What are we gonna do after lunch, Lady?” Lucy asked.

  “Play dress up,” I said as if I did it every day.

  “Mickey and Sara, too?” she asked.

  “Maybe Sara,” I said, “but I don’t think it’s Mickey’s kind of game.”

  Lucy considered Mickey with calculation in her eyes. “No, me either. She’s like Papa. Papa wouldn’t play dress up. It’s not her kind of game either.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed, “but Papa will think it’s fab if we play dress up!”

  “Yay!” she crowed. “Mickey,” she said bossily, “you can take the pictures!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mickey saluted Lucy in all seriousness.

  The buzzer rang. Mickey checked the video display. “Verity,” she called under her breath, “can you come here a sec?”

  I had only just stood when pounding started on the front door. Fortunately, I’d latched it. And locked it. And chained it.

  We had mere moments to secure Lucy. Mickey had already dialed 911.

  I tore into my office to call Terry. Raven was at the doctor with Gretchen for a breast biopsy. The last two people on Earth we needed to worry were those two!

  “Terry, it’s Verity. The bikers are in my hallway pounding on the door and Lucy’s with me as well as two of my students. Police! STAT. And please don’t text Raven—she’s at the doctor with Gretchen.”

  “On it, Verity.”

  “Lucy, come to Lady,” I called as I sped down the hallway with my phone in hand.

  “They’re on their way, Verity,” said Mickey, grabbing Sara’s hand to follow me.

  Ellie argued with the bikers in the hallway. The pounding went on, off and on.

  I yanked Lucy into the bedroom, stuck her in a corner and told her to stay, and Mickey helped me move the bed upright against the door. We were as safe as adrenaline could make us.

  “Lady, what? Lady, what? Lady, what?” Lucy recited a litany.

  “Lucy, sweet girl, hush,” I said on my knees in front of her. “The bad man is here and his friends are too. Unca Terry is on her way.”

  We heard a loud knocking at my back door. Someone called, “Police!”

  Thank Goddess. I opened the bedroom window that faced the porch and yelled, “It’s open!”

  They came through the porch door at the sound of my voice. “We’re in here, we’re fine. Go get those guys at my door—please!”

  “On it, ma’am,” said an officer I recognized from the task force.

  Chapter 55

  Feet thumped on the stairs. Terry exploded through the porch door. “Verity? You in one piece?”

  Lucy yelled, “Unca Terry!” Terry ignored her.

  “Yes, we’re fine. You’ll have to get us out of here once you take those guys in. Come to the window when it’s done please.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  Then I grabbed my phone and called Jamie.

  “Jenkins’ law office.”

  “Jane, it’s Verity Spencer.”

  “Yes, Dr. Spencer, what can I do for you?”

  “Is Jamie there?”

  “I’ll put you right through.”

  “Unca Jamie!” hollered Lucy. She was not afraid in the least.

  Mickey handled Sara’s fears by holding her close, murmuring into her hair.

  “Lucy, listen to Lady. Quiet as a church mouse, baby girl.”

  Lucy put her finger in front of her lips. “Shshshsh.”

  “Raven’s Beauty, I didn’t think I’d hear—”

  I crosscut her. “Jamie, I need more restraining orders. Can you get the names of the two biker drug dealers? They’re here, with Ellie, pounding on my door. I need them in jail, Jamie, please,” I begged. “Lucy’s with me. Raven and Gretchen are at Gretchen’s biopsy. Please don’t call her.”

  “Verity, I have to call her.”

  “Alright,” I said, “then give me five minutes to call her first so I’m not in trouble.”

  “Deal, but five only. I’ll have these orders prepped, and we’ll drop the names in as soon as I get Terry.”

  “She’s here. Text her the request, and once they get the dealers out of here, she’ll send them to you.”

  “No worries, Raven’s Beauty, we’ve got you covered.” Jamie hung up.

  I pushed one button. Raven had put herself at the top of my favorites. I hadn’t seen that. It made me smile—if briefly.

  “Baby,” Raven whispered into her phone, like she was in a full doctor’s waiting room, which she was.

  “Raven, listen and please don’t say anything.”

  I briefed her.

  “Good job. Good calls, all of them. Thanks, baby. Terry’ll take care of you.”

  “Let me talk. Let me talk. Let me talk,” Lucy was given to saying things in threes. I handed her the phone.

  Lucy whispered, “Papa, Lady brave. Very brave. Big brave. Big kiss when you see her.”

  The tears started in my eyes, and Sara’s and Mickey’s eyes crinkled with smiles at this wise little girl. She handed me the phone.

  “Terry’s in the window, darling, I have to let her in. See you soon.”

  Terry had Mickey remove the screen from the window, then climbed through. She glanced at the bed frame on end with covers scattered everywhere, and started to laugh.

  “You’ve seen too many Marx Brothers’ movies, Verity.”

  “I have not. I’ve never even seen one, but I figured the more things to go through to get to my charges the better.”

  “You had a great idea, Verity,” she acknowledged, her mouth twitching in an effort not to grin. “I mean it.” She shifted her attention. “Luce, you good?”

  “Yes, Unca Terry, Lucy good!”

  “Mickey, you want to give me a hand with this? So the girls around here don’t break a nail?”

  “No prob.”

  I kept my mouth shut. But barely. I hadn’t broken a nail moving the damn bed into place! The very idea!

  We were able to exit the room through the door, which was fortunate as I didn’t fancy having to climb through the window although I could have done that without breaking a nail, too. Butches!

  I overheard Terry invite Mickey to the barbeque on Sunday. I’d had the thought myself.

  “I’d love to,” Mickey said. “Can I bring a date?”

  “Course,” Terry threw back.

  “Sara, wanna go?”

  “With you?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  I clocked Sara noticing Mickey in a whole new way. I don’t know if Mickey did or not.

  “I’d love to.”

  Was there a match in the making here? I’d thought Sara was straight. Then I reminded myself, Everyone is what they themselves decide they are till they make a new decision.

  Terry and her team had a bazillion questions to ask us so playing dress up was definitely off for the afternoon. However, to keep Lucy entertained, I did stick her on the kitchen counter to do her make-up and put her hair in a clip “just like Lady’s.” She was a miniature prom queen. Terry bowed every time she walked past Lucy, and Lucy girled it up like the best of us.

  Terry sprang Mickey and Sara before Lucy and me and they opted to go to Market Basket for tea goodies. Sara would know how to do a formal tea. I would pour as the lady of the house. When they got back, they got Lucy involved in preparations so that I could talk to Terry and her team.

  �
��Did you get a text from Jamie?” I asked.

  “Yeah, all done,” she eyeballed me not to say any more. I got the message.

  “Terry, how did you get here so fast?” I asked.

  “We’d finished a follow-up meeting in Somerville. We were on our way and close to the top of your hill when the 911 call came in. Dispatch was on to us in seconds and we zipped down the street into the driveway. I’d already done some recon and the SFD keeps a key to the back door of the building.”

  “SFD?” I asked.

  “Somerville Fire Department. They have to have keys to these old buildings because the doors aren’t replaceable. So I, um,” she ran her hands over her greying boy haircut, “on the grey side of the law, made a copy of it. I had it in my pocket.”

  “Thank Goddess,” I said.

  Geoff came into the living room and I brightened.

  “Geoff, I didn’t know you were here!”

  “I came back after we took those clowns in. Unbelievable. They used a hairpin to pick the lock on the front door. A hairpin, I ask you! You’d better have the building get some more secure locks, Verity.”

  “I will,” I promised.”Geoff, the flowers you sent are gorgeous. They touched me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You were brave. Today, I hear, too.”

  “Yeah, well, a three year old will motivate that in anyone.”

  Terry piped in, not looking up from her scribbling, “Nuh-uh.”

  “Well, it does to me,” I said. “I wasn’t going to let Lucy be any more upset than I thought she could be, but she wasn’t even a speck upset. Unca Terry’s on the spot and Lucy’s safe—no ifs, ands, or buts!”

  We laughed.

  What with one thing and another, four o’clock had dawned and that meant time for tea and the police were still in my space. I decided everyone would sit down and have tea. What did I have those formal teacups and saucers for?

  Raven and Gretchen arrived in the midst of the hubbub of getting everyone settled in the living room. Gretchen was pale but otherwise alright.

  She zeroed her attention in on me as she stepped into the living room, and said, “Verity Spencer, I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without bikers or drug dealers or police officers invading! What am I going to do with you?”